


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒-𝑡ℎ𝑒-𝑃𝑜𝑜ℎ

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [31]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Surrealism, Teenage Bright, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒-𝑡ℎ𝑒-𝑃𝑜𝑜ℎ from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#winnie-the-poohThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Series: Domino 🁡 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Kudos: 1
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒-𝑡ℎ𝑒-𝑃𝑜𝑜ℎ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Winnie-the-Pooh](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685369) by A. A. Milne. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[Winnie-the-Pooh](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winnie-the-Pooh_\(book\)) \- A. A. Milne  
>  **— Cover Song:**[Obstacles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqWcpEZ3GY0) \- Syd Matters

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/winnie-the-pooh.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
“Malcolm, you can take the bear if you want,” Gabrielle tells him.

Malcolm doesn’t waste any time, scrambling for the panda and hugging it tight to his small frame. His chin nestles into the bear’s head, rubbing against the soft fur. Sitting in Gabrielle’s office every few days has become routine, his mother waiting just outside to bring him to the car once the appointment is through. He never says anything, just nods or shakes his head where expected.

“Your mom says you’re going to see Lieutenant Arroyo today,” Gabrielle says.

 _Gil, and Jackie, **hopefully**_. He nods — the faster he can get out of there, the faster he can get to them.

“What do you think you’ll do with him?” she asks, looking at him patiently.

A set of communication cards is laid out on the table in front of him, and there’s even a small whiteboard and pen, but he doesn’t want to use any of them. He squeezes the bear tighter and buries his face. His trauma is worse than any heffalump or woozle — his childhood and more have already been stolen, and there is very little left to raid. Panda doesn’t have Pooh’s pot of honey, so he likes to pretend it’s in its belly. If he holds it tight enough, perhaps he can protect it.

“Malcolm, how are you feeling today?”

He shakes his head into the bear’s fur.

“Yesterday? The day before?”

He shrugs. Every day’s pretty much the same. He can’t leave the house for fear of ridicule or danger, so a tutor comes to him. He’s practically turned into Eeyore next to his sister, who thankfully seems unaware of the abuse towards him. Perhaps she escaped unscathed, a little Roo to he doesn’t know who’s Kanga. He squeezes the bear to his stomach as it rolls — he might be sick.

“How — “ Gabrielle starts and stops as his eyes dart around the room in a panic. With practiced ease, she grabs the garbage can and deposits it next to his shins. He bends over, ridding the little water in his stomach, never letting go of his hold on the bear.

He just needs to make it through the fifty minutes. Then he can see Gil. Why can’t his body do that simple thing right? Why can’t he do anything right?

A tissue box appears in front of him. His mouth tastes of gross acid, but he doesn’t need one. Sticking his face back in the bear, he tries not to cry.

“Do you want a break to go to the bathroom? Clean up a little?” Gabrielle sounds so kind, so pleasant — he doesn’t deserve it.

He shakes his head. Hand trembling against the bear’s chest, he squeezes harder, trying to force it to stop. It doesn’t. Even his other hand locked on top doesn’t help. His whole body is giving in to falling apart in Gabrielle’s office.

Glancing around for a safe spot, his legs take him behind one of the cubbies, and he crumples into a heap. He protects the honey-filled bear with all he has, holding on tight and rocking to soothe himself. The world disappears around him, leaving him with his bear.

“Take the knife, Malcolm,” his father says, flashing in his mind.

Malcolm jerks away in an attempt to avoid his grasp. He doesn’t want the metal, doesn’t want to hurt anyone, doesn’t want to see fresh blood oozing out of a soon to be corpse. “N—n—,” he grunts.

“It’s your turn, my boy,” his father says. Reading a book in bed? Trading halves of _The Count of Monte Cristo_?

Malcolm’s tired — he can’t do this. “N—n—,” he begs, curling into himself.

Hands keep reaching for Malcolm, shapeshifting heffalumps and woozles trying to take his honey bear. They can’t have it — they can’t have it. He shrieks, the sound piercing his own ears.

“Malcolm.” It’s the first voice Malcolm recognizes other than his own. “Hey, kid.”

Malcolm peeks a tentative eye up over the top of the bear. Gil’s warm, brown eyes look back from where he’s crouched on the floor near his feet. Malcolm gets to see Gil today. Keeping one arm tight around the bear, he reaches out the other toward Gil.

“Back of your neck?” Gil asks.

Malcolm nods, and Gil shifts to sit next to him, rubbing the base of his neck. The simple motion leads Malcolm to gasp and swallow in an attempt to hold back tears.

“It’s alright, kid. We can sit here as long as you need,” Gil says.

Malcolm believes him. Gabrielle’s office is already dark, and they could spend hours into the evening if Malcolm requests. He doesn’t want to be there, though. Reaching for Gil’s free wrist, he squeezes, counting the beat of Gil’s pulse beneath his fingers and metering his breaths to it.

“Jackie’s waiting for us in the car. She can’t wait to see you, kid. Says you won’t beat her at Scrabble this time.”

Malcolm knows he’ll win again. That all three of them will laugh and giggle as Gil tries to make up words that Jackie will challenge and Malcolm will get to look up in the dictionary. He shifts a little, eager to get out of Gabrielle’s office.

“Ready to go?” Gil asks.

Malcolm nods.

“Walk?”

Malcolm shakes his head. Already a meltdown in, giving in to being carried doesn’t seem intimidating. He craves the comfort he’ll get resting against Gil’s shoulder and hip as they walk to the car.

“Up we go,” Gil says, telegraphing his movements before he pulls Malcolm into his side.

Malcolm doesn’t see Gabrielle, his mother, or anything while they exit the office, his face buried into Gil. He’s buckled into the car, Jackie sitting next to him in the back before he takes in anything around him again.

“Hi, honey,” Jackie says, and he burrows into her side as soon as she slides over.

Hands fisted in the bear, he realizes he’s taken something he shouldn’t have.

“You can bring it back next time,” she says, rubbing his hair. “Rest a little — it’s gonna take a bit to get home.”

He protects his friend a little bit longer, falling asleep to Jackie’s humming and the thrum of the engine.

— ◌◯◌ —

“I almost want to give it to him now,” Gil comments, looking at the stuffed panda on the windowsill. He’s sitting in the chair at Malcolm’s beside, he and Jessica trading off standing.

“He never would let go of that thing at Gabrielle’s,” she says.

“Hugging a person was hard for him, but stuffed animal, no problem.” His memories of the haunted child merge with the harrowed adult, almost equally small in the bed.

“For a while there, yeah. You and Jackie had the magic touch, though. Me, I was the bad guy.”

“Jess — “

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She plays with the edge of the blanket as if it’s moved and needs any fixing. “What do you think he’s thinking?”

“Hopefully, for once in his life, just sleeping. Healing. Recovering so he can talk our ears off when he wakes up.” When he wakes up and undoubtedly begs to go back to work.

“Do you know my son at all?” she teases. “His arrogant ass is probably trying to solve the case that nearly got him killed.”

“Our team is doing excellent work with that. Even he wouldn’t go that far. JT and Dani would give him an earful. Never mind me.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

Gil’s voice stutters, his throat filled with a hundred emotions at once vying to exit. “That I love him,” he says, voice thick with tears he keeps at bay. She squeezes his hand. “Sorry.” He stands and looks out the window into the night.

“It’s alright.” She hugs him from behind, her hands resting overtop of his middle.

He breathes slowly a few times, regaining control. “It’s hard enough being here. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Ainsley at home.”

“Only one of my children has the talent to break out of house arrest.”

“A learned skill,” Gil corrects. “Though sometimes I wish he’d forget it.”

Jessica chuckles. “Like you didn’t teach him.”

“I didn’t. You can thank Quantico for that.”

“Ah — I can thank you for the rest.” She kisses the back of his neck, which lets him know she’s teasing.

He turns in her arms and cups her cheek. “I’m sorry working with me hurt him, Jess.”

She looks at him skeptically. “Did you give him whatever caused this?”

Eyes finding the floor, he responds, “No.”

“Then save your apology.”

“Seeing him like this is so — “

“Un-Malcolm? Yet so Malcolm at the same time?”

Gil shrugs.

“Like calling for a bus isn’t on speed dial for you all.”

“He might be responsible for an influx of incident reports on my desk.” And several ongoing conversations with his boss about how Bright is a liability. He doesn’t tell Bright about those, not wanting him to feel unwelcome.

“But the solves are worth it.” Jessica rolls her eyes.

“Seeing the kid excited about something is worth it.”

“About death,” she scoffs.

Gil goes silent and pulls away to the chair, thoughts drifting back to Bright’s predicament. Their presence in the ICU means it’s serious, the persistent updates on the monitor and steady rise and fall of his chest the only signs that he’s alive at all. He can’t fathom a world without Bright chattering after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
